Markèd
by ephieshine
Summary: There are some things Anko can never forget. He has marked her, mind, body, and soul. [OroAnko] oneshot; contains dark and mature content.


**Summary: There are some things Anko can never forget. He has marked her, mind, body, and soul. OroAnko; contains dark and mature content. **

**Foreword: I know, I know, I was supposed to post the next chapter of The To-Do List, but I needed a(nother) break from light-hearted smut and KakaSaku in general, despite it being my OTP. As a little bonus, Kakashi appears in here too. So here it is, the fucked-up, melodramatic product of too much procrastination. And I had no idea what genre this would belong in.**

_**Markèd**_**, and alternate spelling of **_**marked**_**, is pronounced like **_**markedly**_** without the "ly" suffix.**

**Markèd**

"Orochimaru… sama…" The words come out in a feeble gasp as Anko tries to push herself onto her elbows. Her arm spasms in fatigue, and she collapses again, able only to stare up beseechingly at the pale-skinned man standing over her.

His figure is blurry in her eyes, but she sees the faint upwards curve of his lips. "I'm happy you survived … Anko-chan."

The sound of her name on his lips makes the seal on her neck tingle, and she gasps as a trickle of warmth turns into a torrent in her veins. _Pleasure_ seeps into every pore of her small body, and she whimpers, her fingers and toes curling into claws, terrified of the foreign, forbidden sensations.

_What's happening to me?_

He hoists her up, and her frail frame hangs over his shoulder like a sack of rice. Like she's been taught, she tries to calm herself by projecting her attention inward, focusing on her chakra. But she can't – there's something else, an alien chakra that blocks the flow of her own. It's a parasite, using her metabolism to make itself stronger. It threatens to overwhelm her, but it's an awfully wonderful feeling, like being doused in hot water after hypothermia. She stifles a retch.

_What have you done to me?_

"You'll see."

::~::

The man before them utters a sob, and he falls to his hands and knees, making a soft thudding noise against the hard granite of the cave ground.

"Please, have mercy, Orochimaru-sama," he pleads. Anko has seen him before, a scientist working for Orochimaru.

"There is no mercy for traitors," Orochimaru replies softly, and deathly-white snakes erupt from the ground, twisting around the man's limbs, forcing his arms and legs apart; the man's eyes are wide in terror as his body is splayed like a starfish.

She tries to remain impassive, tries not to look away, because she knows that is what Orochimaru wants. But even though she knows the man had tried to contact the Sandaime to reveal Orochimaru's location, she wants to beg her master to let him live, to have mercy, if not on the man himself, then on his wife and three children.

"Anko-chan." Her head jerks up, surprised. Her master's voice is cold, and the seal tingles at the tone. "Kill him."

Her eyes widen, and she tilts her head up to glance at him in shock. There is no humour in his eyes, only a coolness that chills her to the bone.

"What are you waiting for?" he says softly, and she flinches. Automatically, she draws a kunai, and his lips begin to curve upwards. There is cruelty in his eyes, but it is something the thirteen-year-old girl cannot yet comprehend. "You want to please me, don't you, Anko-chan?"

"Yes, Orochimaru-sama," she whispers, and heat surges from the cursed seal, black flames coursing across her skin like tiny fire ants. She steps forward. The kunai flashes downward in a silvery arc; Anko's face is wiped blank of any emotion as the man's blood splatters over her hands, her torso, her face.

Her soul.

::~::

She stares over her shoulder into the mirror, examining the dark tomoe marks of the seal on her neck. The swelling has begun to recede, revealing pale, smooth skin around the inky seal.

She closes her eyes. It feels alive; it pulses with energy when she is near _him_, and throbs painfully when he is angry. Though its design is simple and easy to mistake for impersonal, she knows that it is as intimate as if _he _had stamped his own name onto her skin.

It marks her as _his_, as his property and as his woman.

One day, he will claim her as his in an entirely different way.

She hasn't had time to wash yet. She trails her blood-stained fingers over the seal, biting her lip as the first rush of warmth flows from her shoulders to the tips of her fingers; her heart thuds, and she brings a shaking hand to her premature breast, squeezing. His face appears in her mind, the pleased look he had had when she'd killed the traitor… A fierce heat gathers between her legs and she clenches her thighs together. Her breath comes out in gasping pants, like she's trained for hours.

Her hand leaves the seal, trembling as it inches down her body in a hesitant path until it reaches the apex of her thighs.

_Orochimaru-sama… _

Her hand drops lower, under the waistband of her loose-fitting pants, and lower still, dipping beneath the dark curls of her sex…

_Are you watching this?_

She shudders.

::~::

She shakes her head furiously at the blond man before her. What is his name again?

"No! I know it's in there somewhere. You're supposed to be the best, aren't you? Why can't you retrieve a simple fucking memory?" she snarls. She _has _to know.

She barely puts a foot forward when four masked ANBU surround her, two on each side. She freezes at the harsh grip on her arms.

"We will not allow you to harm our comrades," one of the ANBU snaps. The wolf mask he bears grins eerily down at her and her knees quiver, her bravado gone.

A half-formed apology tumbles out of her mouth and she ducks her head hastily.

"Lay off, Katsuo," comes a stern voice. Anko lifts her head slightly to see a hulking figure approach them. Morino Ibiki, she would later find out he is named. "She's only fourteen. You know she couldn't harm Inoichi-san even if she tried."

The blond man named Inoichi frowns unsympathetically as the ANBU slowly release her. She rubs her arms ruefully as the four elite shinobi disappear into the shadows of the dark interrogation room.

"The memory is still present, but it would be dangerous to the girl if we try to get past the memory barrier Orochimaru has set up." Anko's seal tingles at the sound of his name, and she bites her lip. Oblivious, Inoichi continues, "The barrier is more complicated than I've ever encountered. He is the only one who can remove it safely."

Anko's shoulders slump in defeat. Ibiki thanks Inoichi, and the blond man takes his leave.

"And you," Ibiki turns to her, and his heavily-scarred face comes into view. She flinches – she can't help it. "You better learn some respect around here, especially if you want to stay on my good side."

She mutters a reluctant assent, and to her surprise, the scarred man laughs.

"I like your spirit, Anko. I can see it – you'll do well in Torture and Interrogation."

::~::

"Harder," she demands, and the silver-haired man obliges with a small grunt.

Her cheek scrapes against the rough plaster of the wall almost painfully with every thrust, but she pays no attention. She tries to ignore his quiet pants, tries to imagine a svelte yet abrasive voice in its stead. She's stopped trying to resist those feelings; now she indulges in the sick fantasies – she's accepted her vile desires.

_Anko-chan. You like that, don't you? _

She utters a little moan, pushing her hips back to meet his thrusts; the muscles of her legs stiffen and she struggles to keep upright. His pace and the wet slaps of their bodies hasten; his breath grows ragged, but she's tuned those sounds out completely.

_You want to please me, don't you, Anko-chan?_

"Yes," she moans and her inner muscles begin to constrict.

He groans in pleasure, and the sound is too loud for her to ignore.

The taut fantasy snaps apart like an overstretched balloon. She's back in the small Konoha apartment, her skirt hiked up to her waist and her fishnet leggings pooled unceremoniously at her ankles. Her desire dwindles to nothing as she feels the wet trickle of ejaculate on her thigh; the man behind her pulls out, dragging his lips across her neck and along her jawline. Her lips tighten, but she accepts his post-coital affection with a perfunctory silence, allowing him to pull her to his bed, where he lies close but leaves a modicum of distance between them. Although she'll never admit it, she appreciates his small gestures.

"I'll be here for a week or so," he says lightly as he turns onto his back, mismatched eyes staring up at the ceiling.

She knows what this means: she'll have a fuck-buddy for the rest of the week – a luxury for shinobi like them. She nods. "I'll come over again tomorrow night."

They fall asleep, separated by scant millimetres but not touching.

As the week progresses, he begins to grow bolder – more affectionate; he touches her after sex, draws idle circles in her skin with a light finger. He trails fingers along her abdomen and presses kisses to her temple. She endures it – she loves the way she can lose herself when he fucks her senseless – so his linger touches are a small price to pay.

But on the fifth day of their week together, his finger begins to explore her cursed seal.

"Don't touch that, Kakashi," she snaps, automatically flinching away. There was an overwhelming feeling of wrongness when he touched the seal – he isn't supposed to touch _that _part of her.

"Anko," he murmurs. His voice is compassionate; a moonbeam falls across the scar that bisects his left eye, illuminating the dusty silver of his eyebrow. "Let me help you. There are sealing techniques that –"

She's out of the bedroom before his sentence finishes, leaving behind a fluttering bed sheet and the shallow imprint of her body on his mattress.

She doesn't seek him out again.

They all turn out like that, no matter how good it is in the beginning. They start asking questions, start prying into her personal life. Her solution? Dispose of them and find another who will do for a few weeks, if she is lucky.

::~::

The cave is fusty, reeking of mould and seawater. She stifles a gag and forces herself to walk forward, deeper into the cave.

The cursed seal sears; she claps her hand to her, grimacing. She remembers the sting of the bite from that night, but nothing else. Not for the last ten years. The questions have haunted her for a decade.

_He's here. _

"Anko-chan…"

Every muscle in her body freezes as the hoarse voice of her master permeates through the air, seeping into her skin like being doused in ice-cold water. She feels his presence behind her, but instead of warmth, she feels only the cold emptiness she has come to associate with him.

She whirls around, but he is nowhere to be seen.

An amused chuckle resonates, and she turns back, heart hammering as she approaches the wall. Is he behind it?

No. He's behind _her_, his mind always planning a step ahead of her.

He pushes her against the wall forcefully, his hard body pressing against her back; she gasps at the sudden contact, pressing her cheek against the cold limestone wall.

She tries to summon chakra, hatred, or even just duty to protect Konoha. He is an international criminal – it is her duty to kill him.

But she can't.

All she can do is protest against the fluttering feeling in her veins, the rapid, illogical pounding of her heart.

"This is what you've wanted, isn't it?" he whispers, long tongue darting out to brush against her earlobe.

Anko shivers; her toes curl. What happened to the strong, assertive woman she had been become in the last twelve years? Where was she now?

How disappointed Ibiki would be if he saw her like this, overwhelmed by the hard body of the man pressed against her.

She forces herself to speak. "Wh-What happened that night … Orochimaru-sama?"

Simply uttering his name makes her feel small – makes her feel like the little girl who held his hand, praying to the gods that he would never let her go. She feels helpless in his arms, like the destitute orphan she once was.

"Is that what you really want to know?" comes the voice of her darkest dreams. He's smirking – she can hear it in his rough, silky voice. "Is that the real reason you sought me out, after all these years?"

She whimpers at the sharp noise – he's torn her leggings and panties, and with his hand pinching her sensitive breast through her fishnet undershirt, there's no doubt what he's about to do.

"P-Please…"

_Please _what_? _

His movements induce a slight breeze, and the air makes her hyperaware of the dampness between her legs. She can't help it.

She can feel something thick and blunt, pushing at her entrance. Her slickness makes vulgar noises as the blunt tip of his penis slides along her slit.

"_This_ was the reason, wasn't it, Anko-chan?"

Her scream echoes in the empty cave as he thrusts into her.

::~::

She hates him. She loathes him with every fibre of her being. She wishes she could kill him in his sleep, strangle him after tearing his snakelike tongue out with her bare hands, feel the hot splatter of his blood on her face as he gags, shocked.

He's pounding into her mercilessly, and her limbs are frozen, as if caught in a paralysis jutsu. It's likely she is.

She loves him. She adores every inch of his body, worships him like he is a god. She wishes he would keep her trapped here against his body for all of eternity, their bodies entwined in a primal dance

"_Do it_," comes the hoarse command. Her mind is confused; her body is not.

Her body seizes up uncontrollably; it's the only warning she has before violent, electric pleasure tears through her with the force of Raikiri. Every muscle convulses – the intensity draws a helpless scream from her and tears begin to bead on the lashes of her squeezed-shut eyes.

The rolling pleasure makes it seem like this body doesn't feel like it belongs to her anymore.

But it never did belong to her, did it?

His hands wrap around her neck, pressing hard against her throat. But she knows it's not for his sexual gratification – his chakra floods into her carotid artery and before long, she succumbs to blessed unconsciousness.

She wakes up, curled up on the damp cave ground. Her limbs are trembling from the cold, but the first thing she does is reach back with shaking fingers, searching for the seal.

Her breathing hastens when she can't find it; there is only smooth, chilled, unmarred skin.

Has he really let her go? Has he really set her free?

It isn't until she stumbles out of the cave hours later that she understands.

The seal was never necessary. Her body may no longer be branded by the physical mark, but it isn't needed for her to remember his voice and his cold eyes, the fantasies of his hands on her adolescent body, nor the feelings and sensations that come with them.

She cannot forget him, for he has marked her, mind, body, and soul.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! The cave scene is an alternate version of the Land of Sea arc scene (obviously at this point, she's in her twenties), and in the actual version, Orochimaru does not appear. Please let me know what you think of this fic through a review – it was a bit of an experiment, so I'd love to hear opinions and/or constructive criticism. Thanks again!**


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